


Calculated Pain

by Durrant



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Knotting, M/M, Omega John, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 17:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Durrant/pseuds/Durrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is an omega, but he has no intention of belonging to some alpha. He is going to get an education and become a doctor, if that means that his alpha is out there alone somewhere then that's hardly his concern. </p>
<p>When a certain alpha waltzes into his life John begins to realise that there may be a flaw in his plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John’s greatest fear came true when he was fifteen and he presented as an omega.

No-one else seemed to understand what he was afraid of; didn’t he want someone to look after him? Someone who would always protect and love him, and in exchange all he had to do was legally belong to that complete stranger. 

As awful as it would be to be owned by another person, that wasn’t what John feared the most. He knew that when he found that one alpha that he was genetically predisposed to bond with then he would be doomed. He would lose his personality and his sense of self. He would become a mindless drone whose sole purpose was to make his alpha happy. 

He’d already seen it happen.

Clara was a girl two years above him at school. He hadn’t known her well, but she seemed bubbly and vibrant. She was always surrounded by friends and played on the school’s netball team. Until the day that she had presented as an omega and her desperate search for her alpha had begun. 

John had read the textbooks. He knew that new omegas were hit by an overwhelming hormonal drive to find their alpha, travelling large distances if necessary, before finally succumbing to their heat. That was how he recognised what had happened to Clara when she rang the doorbell at two in the morning; she looked wild, her school uniform dirty and her face twisted with need. 

John knew she was there for Harry. It had always been obvious that Harry was an alpha, and here was her omega to complete her. Proven by the way that Harry had run down the stairs, pushing John out of the way and snarling madly at him. As if he were somehow challenging her right to Clara. 

Harry had carried Clara upstairs to her bedroom, locking the door behind them. Three days later, after Clara’s heat had finished, they had emerged, a newly bonded pair.

Harry let Clara continue her classes at school, but made her quit the netball team. Harry said she didn’t like Clara being away from her for so long, nor the idea of anyone else seeing her in her short netball skirt. John stopped seeing Clara surrounded by friends; she was always either with Harry, or she was alone. But the worst part, the part that made John really cringe was that Clara was happy. She had had to change her whole life around to accommodate Harry’s whims, and she didn’t even seem to mind.

* * *

John knew what he was planning was difficult, so difficult that the medical books said it was impossible. But he was determined. When he presented, he didn’t go to his alpha. 

It was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

He could smell something in the air, a faint scent that was his alpha far in the distance. It would be so easy to follow that trail, to give in to that urge. He locked himself in his room. He could feel his body panicking against his will, his stomach clenching and his hands trembling. 

He didn’t trust himself to leave his room. Even going to the bathroom was risky, as he found himself halfway down the stairs and heading for the front door before he had even realised what he was doing. And once he had started to follow that scent it had been so difficult to remember why he didn’t want this. Why he had to remain his own person. How much he wanted to study, and become a doctor, something he doubted an alpha would allow. 

Finally, his heat hit. Without his alpha it was hell. His hole wet and dribbling lube as his insides burned to be filled. As painful as it was John was finally happy. He had succeeded. He was free of his alpha. 

He could never tell anyone the truth, legally what he had done was wrong and society would always take the part of the alpha. He would be condemned for having cost an alpha their omega. 

Everyone assumed that his alpha was dead, such things happened sometimes and, as it was thought impossible for omegas to not go to their alpha, it was the only possible explanation. Harry mourned for him, telling him how sorry she was that he would never know the joy of being part of a bonded pair. He held his tongue at her increasingly condescending remarks about his now purposeless life. His parents were both betas, they were far more pragmatic about the situation.

* * *

It was John’s father that first bought the suppressants. It was John’s mother who decided to send him to Aldwych. Of course, Harry thought the whole idea was disgusting.

The heat suppressants didn’t just stop him from smelling like an omega, they made him smell like an alpha. Which meant that he could get into an alpha school. Some posh boarding school that would help him get into any university he wanted. Even though he only had one last year to go, it was an amazing opportunity. 

Aldwych was an old school, steeped in tradition, that half the Cabinet had attended; except in recent years there had been some incidents that had rather tarnished their reputation. They were so desperate for new alphas that they had even lowered the tuition fees.

It had all happened so quickly, with such astonishing ease. Within a week of John’s mum ringing Aldwych to ask whether they accepted new alphas into the upper sixth, John had a place and a month to get ready for the new school year and his new life as an alpha.


	2. Chapter 2

His mother cried silent tears as they parted. His father shook his hand, a proper farewell for his alpha son. John smiled slightly to thank his father for remembering to treat him like an alpha, although that didn’t stop him from wishing his dad would hug him goodbye.

He had spent the last month so excited, now he was finally here and he had no idea what to do. A pudgy boy wearing a prefect’s badge approached them confidently and stuck out his hand for John to shake.

“Watson? I’m Stamford. If you’re ready, I’ll show you where your room is.”

John nodded slowly as Stamford had already turned and started walking away. He glanced back at his parents, this was his last chance to say goodbye. He blinked away shameful tears and, giving his parents a small nod, ran after Stamford.

If Stamford noticed how upset he looked, he didn’t say anything. All the same, John felt uncomfortable, unsure if this stranger had seen him doing something so un-alphalike as to get upset over saying goodbye to his parents. 

“Are there many new alphas?” John asked, trying to start a conversation; it was easier than John had imagined. 

“No, well not in our year. Actually, most of our year have left. Can’t really blame them for leaving, but it does make the place feel dreadfully empty. There are only two of you living in your hall. Ten empty rooms, Holmes and you. Could be worse, I’ve got Moriarty and Moran in my hall and they’re terrible. Moran’s a screamer, although to be fair Moriarty’s a sadistic shit, he could be doing _anything_ to him.”

John shivered as Stamford led him up a spiral staircase. However much trouble he would be in if he were ever caught, it would always be worth it. 

“So this is your room. There’s no key, no-one has a key since, well you know...Anyway, lights out at eleven. Although our house mistress, Turner, doesn’t really enforce lights out. In fact, I’m not sure she pays any attention to anything going on around here. Alright, I’ll let you settle in. See you at breakfast.”

John sat down on his new bed thoughtfully. He hadn’t really understood most of what Stamford had said. He had no idea why no-one had keys to their rooms, but more importantly he had no idea where breakfast was served. Sighing he began to unpack his things. 

He had almost finished when the door burst open. A tall, gangly boy with a striking face and a head of curly hair swept into the room.

“You’re in the wrong room. Take your things next door.” The boy’s tone was haughty, but John couldn’t find it in him to take offense. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I think there must be some kind of mix up, one of the prefects just showed me up here.”

The boy huffed, his impatience obvious. 

“No, the school put you in the wrong room.”

“So, you’re saying you want this room?”

“Obviously.” The boy let out another obnoxious sigh, “just because neither of us have omegas does not mean that we have anything else in common. That and a dislike of our older siblings. I don’t want chambers that have an omega room, yours is the only single room on this hall. You’re only studying to be a doctor, I have actual work to do and I can’t concentrate with an omega room. Swap rooms.”

“What? How do you know..” John trailed off as the boy stared down at him.

“Your books. You’re clearly taking Chemistry, Biology and Maths A levels, a combination necessary for those wanting to study medicine. Next to your bed is a book on anatomy, hardly light reading for someone who doesn’t intend to make it their profession.”

“That’s...That’s pretty impressive, actually” John said, “but you’re wrong, I don’t dislike my sister.”

“Really? And yet you placed the photo of your parents in one of the most visible positions in the room, and the picture of your sister is still in your suitcase.”

John looked down at the framed photograph of Harry lounging on a sofa, whilst Clara sat on the floor next to her feet.

“I’m still unpacking,” John said, picking up the picture and putting it next to the one of his parents. 

“Look, I’ve only just arrived. I don’t want to make a fuss, but the school put me in this room. If you really can’t concentrate in your room then you can study in here.”

He didn’t really know why he said it. He’d certainly never given much thought to alphas before, but this one seemed so different with his intelligent eyes and his demanding voice. He almost felt sorry for the boy, unable to concentrate with the constant reminder that he had no omega and would spend his life alone. 

“Alright,” the boy said and turned to leave, “oh, by the way, my name’s Holmes.”

* * *

John woke up late. He had his first class in twenty minutes and no idea how to get there. With no time for breakfast, he desperately threw on his school uniform and ran out the door. 

In the time between his presentation as an omega and starting to take the suppressants, he had attended a college for omegas. Everyone had been so kind there, teachers never raised their voices and always explained things gently. If someone was late for class then the teacher would give a sad smile and calmly remind them what time the class started. John doubted that was how things worked here, and he didn't want to be late for his very first lesson. 

He was halfway to the science block when he ran into a familiar face. 

“Watson?” Stamford called out, “no need to run, we’ve still got five minutes. You are going to Chemistry?”

John nodded and they carried on walking together. Stamford kept up a steady stream of chatter all the way to the lab; John listened to it with half an ear, but he was too nervous about his first class to pay too much attention. 

“ - so I said to Nellie, that’s my omega’s name. Let’s sit here, oh, I don’t suppose you know where Holmes is? I know its unfair - ”

Stamford fell abruptly silent as a man who was obviously the teacher entered the room.

“You there, Watson? Where’s Holmes?” The chemistry teacher called out as he walked towards the teacher’s desk. Everyone in the room turned to look at John. 

“I don’t know,” John said. He knew that an alpha shouldn’t care, but he hated being the centre of attention.

“I beg your pardon, boy!” The teacher snarled, a few of the other students tittered nervously.

“I don’t know where he is,” John clarified, he had no idea why his answers were making the teacher look more and more irate. 

“No, you obviously know very little. You will always address me as sir,” the man paused, and eyed John with obvious distaste, “Look at the state of your uniform! I knew this would happen, God, I don’t know what the Head is thinking, letting riff raff in.”

The man looked at John expectantly, but he had no idea what to say. He was too surprised.

“Sorry, sir.” John said cautiously. This was apparently the right answer as the man nodded curtly.

“Very well, do better next time, Watson. Now, class, today you are working through the problems on page 24. Get on with it. No talking.” 

No-one groaned, but it felt like everyone in the class let out an annoyed sigh as they all turned to the right page and worked through the exercises. John was happily surprised to realise that he understood exactly what to do. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so difficult after all. 

About twenty minutes before the end of the lesson the teacher finally spoke again. 

“Alright, finish those exercises now and the rest for homework. I expect you all to remain here until the end of the lesson.” With that he strolled from the classroom. As soon as the door closed behind him the soft murmur of people whispering began. 

“Watson,” Stamford whispered to him, “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about Dr. Stevens. He is such a bully, and a terrible teacher. The thing is, when someone lives on your hall, it’s sort of expected that you keep tabs on each other. Holmes should be in this class. Of course it’s not your fault, no-one can get Holmes to do anything he doesn’t want to do, Stevens was just being an arse.”

John grinned at him. 

“That’s alright. Is this what Stevens’ lessons are usually like?” John asked. Stamford gave a wry grimace. 

“Unfortunately. But, honestly, he is the worst. Most of the other teachers are much better. ”

“Well, that’s a relief. What are the Biology and Maths teachers like?”

“They’re alright. You know, you’re taking the same A levels as me! You aren’t, by any chance, thinking of going into medicine too, are you?”

When John said that he was, Stamford began to chat animatedly, clearly thrilled to find someone who shared his interest. John, however, was distracted. He’d been too busy keeping his head down before, trying not to attract Dr. Stevens’ attention, but now he realised that almost everyone else in the class was sitting next to an omega.

“I didn’t think that omegas usually studied science.” John said, when Stamford paused. He hated himself for saying it, yet it was strange to see so many omegas in a chemistry lab. Traditionally, omegas who were allowed to finish their education took A levels in the humanities. 

Stamford squirmed a little.

“No, they don’t. My Nellie hates science...It’s just, most alphas, they like to have their omegas with them in class. Even though I’m not sure how many omegas actually pass their Chemistry A level. Always seemed a bit stupid to me, forcing someone to study a subject they don’t like.”

Stamford squirmed again, looking nervously at John as though he had said something incendiary and was expecting John to start an argument. He decided he quite like Stamford. 

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” John said and Stamford visibly relaxed. John grinned at him.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Stamford started, “but, where’s your omega? I mean, you’re in the single room...” He stopped, his face going red with astonishing speed, “I’m sorry, none of my business. My Nellie always says I’m too nosy.”

“That’s alright. I don’t have an omega.”

Stamford looked, if possible, even more embarrassed. 

“I’m terribly sorry. I did wonder you know, when they put you in the same hall as Holmes. Its just, you seem so normal. I mean, Holmes was always a little strange, but after he realised that his omega wasn’t coming he got..well, let’s say, a little stranger. But you seem decent. Come on, we’ve got a free period next. Let’s go up to the upper sixth common room and finish our prep. I can introduce you to Nellie before we go to Maths.”

* * *

Even though he never seemed to be quiet, Stamford was easy company and a good guide. He supposed that Stamford must be lonely, every other alpha kept their omegas with them at all times. By the end of the day he was quite looking forward to a little peace in his own room, so he was surprised when he opened his door to find Holmes already there.

“What the bloody hell are you doing in here? And where the hell have you been all day? Every teacher asked me where you were!” John’s tiredness was forgotten as soon as he saw this annoying alpha. 

“You’re upset. Why? You said I could study in here, plus none of the teachers actually expect you to get me to come to class. I never go anyway. They’re boring and a waste of time.”

John flung himself down on the bed and eyed Holmes wearily. The boy looked back at him from his desk, his expression slightly confused. 

“It’s fine,” he sighed, “how are you doing homework if you don’t go to class?”

“It’s nothing so dull as _homework_ ,” Holmes sneered, “this is an experiment.”

John looked at his desk carefully, but had no idea what Holmes could be experimenting on. He decided to finish his prep instead of asking and, getting his things from his bag, spread his books over his bed. He had almost finished by the time that Holmes spoke again. 

“Was it Stevens that upset you this morning, or Stamford? No, Stamford’s too bumbling. Stevens said something to you. Oh! He asked you where I was. And you didn’t know. That’s why you’re upset. Of course, he’s a terrible snob so he must have said something else.”

“What makes you think anyone upset me? Plus I wasn’t upset, just annoyed.” John answered tightly, he was fairly certain that proper alphas shouldn’t get upset about something so stupid as a teacher yelling at them. 

“It’s obvious. That’s your chemistry homework. Even Stevens doesn’t set that much homework, so you started working on it in class. When you first started working you pressed down hard with your pencil, breaking the lead at least three times. You were really quite emotional. As you calmed you pressed less hard with your pencil.”

John looked down at his paper. It was obvious, now that Holmes had pointed it out.

“That’s, that’s brilliant.” John said softly, “look, I’m sorry I was in such a foul mood when I first got back. You can work in here anytime, I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”

He finally glanced up to see Holmes looking at him strangely, almost as if he were scared. 

“And, yeah, you’re right about Stevens. He is a terrible snob!”

Holmes paled, an odd expression on his face that made him look almost vulnerable. 

“What did he say to you?” Holmes asked tightly.

“Oh, nothing. I didn’t know we’re supposed to call teachers sir.”

“Only people that don’t deserve their titles cling to them.” Holmes said dismissively. “You know Watson, those pills of yours really do work well.”

“What?!?” John choked out.

“While you were in class I searched your room and found your pills. I was just complimenting you on them.”

He’d only been here a day and he’d already been found out. He could feel the tears welling up, but he’d be damned before he let them fall. Especially in front of _Holmes_ , who for some stupid reason he had thought he liked. 

Holmes had found his suppressants. He must have looked up what they were and found out that they caused a change in scent. It was possible that Holmes had assumed that that was why he was taking them. Omega heat suppressants were hardly in demand. An omegas heat was supposed to be a beautiful thing. Maybe Holmes didn’t even know they could be used as suppressants. 

An omega pretending to be an alpha would be scorned by everyone. A beta pretending to be an alpha, that was almost understandable. 

Holmes still looked weirdly vulnerable, as if he hadn’t just revealed John’s biggest secret. 

“I could help you, if you like. Pretending to be an alpha is more than just a change of scent, you’ve got to change how you behave as well.” Holmes said, his voice unsure. Watson made up his mind, he was going to lie to this man who seemed to know the truth about everyone by just looking at them. 

“Are you going to tell anyone that I’m a beta?”

Holmes sat up straight, confidence seeming to return to him.

“Why should I get my friend expelled? Besides you’re probably the only beta to have ever studied here. That makes you fascinating. Now, more importantly, what shall we do about Dr. Stevens? I rather think he needs to be taught a lesson.”

John’s face broke out in a massive grin. He was so relieved, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing. A second later Holmes started to laugh as well.


	3. Chapter 3

He hadn’t realised that there was a tiny kitchenette on their hall until his third day at Aldwych. Now, after two weeks, he seemed to be there all the time, waiting for the slow kettle to boil as he made tea for Holmes and himself.

Returning to his room he was surprised to find it empty. It had become so natural for Holmes to spend every evening in there, usually sitting at the desk reading whilst John did his homework on the bed. John rather liked the comfortable silences, almost as much as he liked the flurry of rapid observation and deduction about any teacher or student that John mentioned he’d spoken to that day. 

He put down the two cups of tea and went back into the hallway. Holmes’ door was open ajar and he could hear voices. He’d never actually heard Holmes interact with anyone else and he was instantly intrigued. 

“I said no, now go away, Lestrade,” Holmes’ voice rang out clearly. 

“Holmes, you’ve done nothing since the start of term. All you do is sit up here and sulk with the new boy,” the stranger said levelly.

“I have no interest in your sexual proclivities, but just because you prefer alpha cock to your own omega does not give you the right - ”

John stepped back from the door, standing on a loose floorboard that creaked loudly. He’d never really thought about Holmes’ sex life before, as a lone alpha he’d just assumed that Holmes was probably asexual nowadays. It had, John reflected bitterly, been terribly naive of him. Of course, he had no reason to care about Holmes sex life, it was nothing to do with him. He just didn’t like to hear about it so casually discussed with this Lestrade character, when John had no idea who Lestrade was. 

“Watson?” Holmes yelled, from within his room. John pushed the door open cautiously, noting how close together the two alphas were standing. 

“I was just coming to tell you the tea’s ready,” he said, not moving into the room, “I’d better get back to my homework.” He turned quickly, almost running back to his own room. There was no reason he should be upset about anything he’d overheard. 

He’d barely closed his room door behind him when Holmes barged in.

“You’re upset again. Don’t deny it. You’re always at least polite to people, but you could barely look at Lestrade.”

“Is it true? Does Lestrade really not sleep with his omega?” John asked, he could barely explain to himself what had really upset him, but that one fact seemed desperately important too. Holmes nodded his head decisively.

“But, but I thought,” John spluttered, this seemed to go against everything he knew about alpha-omega bonding, “I thought the omega always...wanted the alpha. It’s just biology.”

Holmes looked pained.

“Sometimes, Watson, there are alphas who prefer the company of their own kind. Alphas who prefer other alphas, or, sometimes, betas.” John was stunned. All the effort he had put into avoiding his alpha, the pain of not following his delicious scent, and there had been a chance that it wasn’t necessary; that alpha-omega pairs weren’t as tightly bonded as everyone claimed. 

“I have to go. I need some fresh air.” John muttered, turning away from a devastated looking Sherlock. John had no idea why he would be upset, and noted to himself that he would have to ask later, when he didn’t feel like he was about it be sick.

* * *

“Watson! I say, Watson!”

John kept his head down and kept walking across the empty rugby pitch. A hand fell onto his shoulder, gently gripping him. John looked round to see Stamford looking at him with concern. 

“You alright? I’ve been calling you for ages.”

“Sorry. I just had to get out for a bit, get some fresh air.”

“Ha, is Holmes finally getting to you? You know, you could always come and play rugby with us. The upper sixth don’t have to play, but it might do you some good. Let you get out a bit more, you’re always studying!”

John looked around the pitch forlornly. It had started to drizzle while he’d been walking, but he had only just noticed. He couldn’t play rugby with alphas, he’d get beaten to a pulp. At his omega college they’d played football sometimes, but it was understood that everyone was delicate. They all had to be careful to never get too rough. John had hated it, he’d always wanted to be treated like a real person. 

“Maybe another time,” John said regretfully, “I’d better be getting back. I still haven’t finished that maths prep.”

“God! I haven’t even started. Look, Watson, don’t take things too seriously, alright? No-one wants you to end up like Donovan.” Stamford looked at him earnestly.

“I don’t..I’m not really sure what that means,” John said. Was what had happened to Donovan the mysterious incident that no-one would talk about? Whatever had happened seemed to have affected every aspect of life at Aldwych, but everyone was oddly silent about it. 

“It means,” Stamford said, with a nervous grin, “Don’t jump off the science block.”

“Oh,” John blinked, “Well, I can promise I won’t do that.”

* * *

John returned to find Holmes was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling with a stubborn glare.

“Hey,” John called out as he entered the room. 

Holmes didn’t even move. 

“I’m going to make some more tea. How about it? Would you like a nice cup of tea?” John’s question was met with an angry silence. “Come on, we have ten empty rooms, twenty if you count the omega rooms as well. We could set up labs in all of them. Think of all the experiments you could do!”

“We? I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Holmes said acidly. 

“What?! Of course I do! I was just a bit surprised. I always thought that an omega went to their alpha, and that was it. No choice, no sexual preference, no anything really. Just the omega dealing with it.”

“Oh, don’t be so stupid, Watson. How can you live surrounded by bonded alphas and omegas and think that the relationship is so simplistic. Look at your _friend_ Stamford, he doesn’t care if his omega studies different subjects. Look at Lestrade, he may have an omega, but he’s gay, he can only get it up for another alpha. I know they tell betas all this hogwash about bondings, but really, do use your brain. If you’re going to pass for an alpha you’re going to have to realise that this isn’t so black and white. Especially as you’re posing as a single alpha. Do you even have a cover story? Where’s your omega?”

“I was just going to say my omega didn’t turn up, it’s not exactly polite to ask. Most people would just leave it at that.”

“And when someone doesn’t _leave it at that_. What are you going to say then? Why are you being so dull today, Watson?”

“Look, I’m sorry I left earlier, but there’s no need to be rude. What do you tell people? About your omega?”

“I tell them the truth, not every alpha deserves an omega. Some of us are too...unique.”

John stared at his friend in amazement. 

“You can’t believe that! I mean its not your fault..” John paused, it seemed odd to try and comfort his friend by saying that his omega was probably dead, that it wasn’t Holmes’s fault, that it was nothing to do with Holmes. 

“Can I call you by your first name?” John asked, trying to change the subject. 

“Why?” Holmes asked with a frown.

“Well, it just seems odd. I mean, you’re my best friend and I don’t actually know your first name. I know everyone here just uses surnames, but..” John trailed off. Holmes was giving him an incredulous look. John supposed it was an unusual request. 

“Sherlock, John, my name’s Sherlock,” he said with an odd smile.


	4. Chapter 4

It took John a moment to realise that someone had knocked on his door. No-one ever had before. 

“Come in?” 

A tall, rather stately looking alpha carrying an umbrella entered. He glanced around the room, clearly assessing it, and then gave a slight sniff, smelling the air. 

It was such an odd gesture and it instantly unnerved John. Alphas didn’t scent each other, there was no need to and it was such an old-fashioned custom, seen as slightly barbaric. An alpha might sniff an omega, to find out who they belonged to, but that was really the only time.

“Good afternoon, you must be John Watson.” The stranger said, still not introducing himself. John remained seated at his desk, keeping the table between himself and this man as a physical barrier. 

“Hello, sir. I’m afraid I don’t know who you are.” 

“No, you wouldn’t. But you do know Sherlock Holmes.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It is fascinating that despite his obsession with experimenting on the more outré aspects of the omega dynamic he remains almost entirely ignorant of the nature of your own self-medication.”

John shifted in his seat. He wasn’t quite sure what this man was saying, but he had the horrible suspicion that with one sniff he’d found out exactly what John was. 

“Despite my brother’s beliefs, I have no interest in involving myself in his personal life. He is perfectly at liberty to squander his time as he sees fit. However, I will not see him fall prey to those who would take advantage of his affliction.”

John blinked in surprise. Sherlock didn’t have an affliction, but if he did then John didn’t want anyone to take advantage of it either. The idea of anyone using Sherlock, or hurting him, was abhorrent and he couldn’t stop himself frowning at the thought. 

“Oh, I see.” The man smiled at him. It was a toothy smile that had every appearance of being friendly but made it look more like the man was about to bite John. 

“Well, in that case, there really isn’t anything more to discuss. Although, perhaps you could try to get Sherlock to attend _some_ classes. As much as he is convinced that he could pass his A levels now, it is costing me a small fortune to bribe the school to let him stay here. I’m sure you, of all people, don’t want to see him leave early, do you?”

The man looked at him expectantly, not seeming to care about any of the monumental things he’d hinted at in the last few seconds. 

“N-no, sir,” John stuttered, bewildered. 

“Very good. I’m sure we’ll meet again, Mr. Watson.”

* * *

“What did he want? What did Mycroft say to you?” Sherlock barreled into the room five minutes after the man, who must have been Sherlock’s brother, had left.

“Mycroft? Is that a name?” Sherlock smirked despite the worry still etched on his face. 

“He said, I think he said that you were ill. Are you?” John asked. Sherlock let out a deep sigh. 

“I used to be. Come on, I want to show you something,” he said, turning and walking quickly from the room. John struggled to keep up as Sherlock led them outside and towards the science block. 

“Sherlock! Slow down!” John called out as he lagged behind. Sherlock had already gone into the science building, the heavy front door swinging shut in John’s face. He pushed it open with a sigh, there was no Sherlock waiting for him. The corridor was deserted, the whole building empty at this time of evening. The door to the stairwell clicked shut, the sudden noise making John jump. 

He pushed the door to the stairs open and, looking up, thought he saw the swish of Sherlock’s coat many floors above. He started to climb the stairs as fast as he could. He hated how weak his body was; it was so easy for Sherlock to race ahead while John was still lumbering along, alone and left behind. 

Despite that, he knew he would have hated some alpha who always waited patiently for him, who held themselves back so that John could keep up. Sherlock didn’t pander to him because he thought he was a beta. It was refreshing and John rather liked it. He smiled to himself, until he realised where he was. In front of him was the door to the science block roof. 

He remembered Stamford’s warning. This was where that alpha had killed themselves. He pushed the door open and saw Sherlock standing on the ledge of the building, peering down at the ground below. 

“SHERLOCK!” The scream wasn’t even a conscious thought as John ran forward. Sherlock turned, his expression entirely nonchalant. 

“Don’t worry, John,” he said irritably, but he stepped back to stand beside John.

His heart was racing, and he could feel the tips of his fingers shaking. For a split second he had honestly thought that Sherlock was about to jump. He pushed his hand into Sherlock’s so that their palms touched. He could feel Sherlock’s shocked pause and expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. Instead he curled his long fingers around John’s hand, making him feel small, tucked into Sherlock’s reassuringly large and warm hand. He felt protected. It wasn’t something John had ever thought he would want, yet something about this alpha was so different. He knew he could hold Sherlock’s hand and it wouldn’t make him any weaker. 

The realisation hit him slowly, as all the bits of evidence slowly mounted in his mind, until quite suddenly John realised what a fool he had been to not have known it straight away. How comfortable he’d been in Sherlock’s presence. The easy way he let use Sherlock use his room at all hours of the night. His own unhappiness and jealousy when he thought of Sherlock with Lestrade. Sherlock’s delicious scent. John recognised it now. It should have been familiar to him, it was his alpha’s scent. He belonged to Sherlock. He was Sherlock’s missing omega. 

He tried to take his hand from Sherlock’s. He needed to get away. But Sherlock’s hold tightened and he began to speak.

“A student jumped from here. Broke her neck. Death five minutes after impact. That’s why I don’t deserve an omega.”

“What?” John’s voice sounded breathless even to his own ears. It seemed so strange that he had found his alpha and yet the world was continuing as normal. How could Sherlock keep on talking, when, quite suddenly, John’s whole world had collapsed.

“Because I killed her.”


	5. Chapter 5

He could barely remember running down the stairs of the science block. He was outside and half way across the rugby pitch before he slowed down. His whole life was over. All the suppressants and all the careful planning were for nothing because of this one stroke of bad luck. After all this time he’d found his alpha without even meaning to. His very own, murderous alpha. 

He was panting heavily, he couldn’t keep running. He slowed down and began to trudge towards the games pavillion. He just needed to find a space to think. If he could just calm down then he could work out a plan. John Watson would not be finished so easily. 

He let himself into the empty pavillion and found a corner of the locker room to sit in. The room stank of stale alpha sweat and mildew. It was so unfair. He didn’t want to be an omega. He just wanted to be treated like a real person, with the freedom to make his own decisions. 

His first instinct was to run. To go back to his room, pack his bag and leave Aldwych tonight. It wasn’t as if the teachers were particularly good. But then, if he left so suddenly there would be questions. God, what would Sherlock _deduce_ if he did that? 

Sherlock. Who had admitted he’d killed someone. He’d known that there had been some scandal at the school. He’d assumed it had been Donovan’s suicide. Apparently, it was Donovan’s murder. Had the school hushed it up? Covering for Sherlock for the same reason that he was allowed to remain at a school when he barely attended any classes, his family were rich enough to buy him out of trouble.

He could carry on, just pretend everything was normal. Sherlock need never know John was his. He would have to stop being friends with him, but after Sherlock’s confession that would be understandable. He might, morally, already be Sherlock’s but technically, legally, he was still his own person until Sherlock claimed him. And if there was one thing that John was certain of it was that he would never, ever have sex with Sherlock Holmes.

John breathed in deeply. He’d decided. He would just stop being friends with Sherlock. It would be easy, and no-one would even question it because Sherlock didn’t have any other friends. 

He took another deep calming breath and stood up. He would return to his room as if he’d never learnt who his alpha was. He was strong and he could do this. He just wished he wasn’t so alone, he wished his mum was there and would throw her arms around him and tell him it would all be alright. But, in the eyes of the world, he was an alpha now, and he shouldn’t want such things.

* * *

“You’re Watson, aren’t you? We weren’t properly introduced before. My name’s Lestrade,” the boy standing in his hall said.

“Nice to meet you,” John muttered, trying to edge past him.

“Have you seen Holmes?” Lestrade said as he followed John along the hall, only stopping to stand in John’s doorway.

“No.”

“Only he’s not in his room, and he’s not in here and I really need him to take a look over these,” Lestrade said, showing John a paper file. John shrugged, not sure how to get rid of this strange boy.

“You haven’t had an argument, have you?” Lestrade asked. 

“No..” John paused, if he wasn’t going to be friends with Sherlock any more then he might as well make sure that Sherlock knew why. “Yes. He, well, he told me that he’d killed Donovan.”

“What? That’s...It’s not true. Good Lord, Holmes is so melodramatic!” Lestrade spluttered, “Alright, he certainly didn’t help the situation, but it’s not like he pushed her.”

John let out a small sigh of relief. He known on some level that it was impossible that Sherlock was a murderer, but it was good to hear it confirmed. 

“You just don’t understand what he was like. It’s so weird how different he is this term. He used to be completely obsessed with omegas. And then, when Donovan’s omega died, he started...Look, you two are friends, just ask him. But, I swear, he didn’t push her off that roof. She jumped of her own free will. I’m not saying Holmes didn’t have a hand in driving her up there, but...Just talk to him. ”

Lestrade gave him a beseeching look. 

“I know we don’t know each other or anything, but I’ve never seen Holmes as...as content as he has been since you arrived. Just give him a chance, yeah?”

* * *

John woke with a start and a rush of adrenaline. Sherlock was standing next to his bed. He only just managed to stop himself from screaming, instead he let out an undignified yelp.

“Jesus, Sherlock! What time is it?” John asked, twisting to see his alarm clock. It was just after 3 am. 

“You haven’t asked me for details.”

“What?”

“I realise, I didn’t explain myself.” 

“That’s fine. Just, just go away, alright? I already talked to Lestrade. It’s really late.” 

“We’ve stayed up this late before.”

“Yeah, exactly. This is different. I’m tired, I’m in bed and I was asleep.”

“Are you upset because you held my hand? You shouldn’t be. I liked it.” 

He wanted Sherlock to leave and never come back. Sherlock was his jailer and he didn’t even realise it, must never realise it. He felt tears of frustration in his eyes. He wanted Sherlock to lie down beside him, to hold him and comfort him. He’d never had a friend like Sherlock before, he was fascinating and intelligent and he eclipsed everyone else John had ever met. Just being in Sherlock’s presence was a risk though; as much as he liked Sherlock, he had to choose his own life above Sherlock. 

“Just go, we’ll talk tomorrow, alright?” John said, closing his eyes. He knew he wasn’t going to talk to Sherlock in the morning. In fact, he was going to do everything possible to avoid Sherlock for as long as he could.

* * *

Dr Stevens left the classroom ten minutes before the end of his class, issuing dire warnings for anyone who so much as spoke in his absence.

“I swear that man gets worse every lesson! I say, do you have any plans for tonight, Watson?” Stamford asked cheerfully, not bothering to lower his voice. John glanced pointedly at the door.

“Oh, don’t worry about him. It’s Friday, he’s probably already in his car, clearing off by now.” John laughed, he was ever so glad that he was friends with Stamford. His constant chatter and seemingly endless good humour kept John from thinking about Sherlock.

“You should come round to ours, instead of skulking in the library like I know you’ve been doing all week.” Stamford continued. It was true, John didn’t feel safe returning to his room when Sherlock might walk in at anytime. It was easier to work in the library until he was so tired he could go straight to his room and pass out. 

“I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude,” John said, hesitatingly. It would be nice to think about something other than avoiding Sherlock for a couple of hours.

“Excellent. Last weekend I snuck out to the off-licence and bought some plonk. My Nellie absolutely refuses to drink it, but it’s really not that bad. Just a little cheap.”

“I think that sounds perfect.”

* * *

He’d only had two glasses of red wine, he just wasn’t used to alcohol. Stamford had found John’s drunken chatter to be immensely amusing, but, as John stumbled up the spiral stairs to his hall, he swore he was going to be a teetotaller from now on. He’d been too relaxed, he liked Stamford and he could have admitted _anything_ to him. 

He pushed his door open to find Sherlock sprawled on his bed. His long legs crossed at the ankle and his hands behind his head, John didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone look more elegant. 

“You’re going to have to move. I need to go to bed.”

“You’ve been drinking,” Sherlock said, wrinkling his nose. John sat down heavily on his bed and took his shoes off.

“Seriously Sherlock, you should just go,” John said, staring down at the floor.

“John,” Sherlock’s voice was so soft that he almost didn’t hear him. He knew that if he told Sherlock to leave again, then he would. He could end their friendship right now, but the idea of never being near this brilliant man again made his chest clench. 

John twisted round and kissed Sherlock on the cheek.

Sherlock stared up at him, his eyes wide with surprise as his long fingers felt the spot that John had kissed. John smiled down at him sadly. He knew he was being stupid and his indecisiveness was confusing Sherlock, and a confused Sherlock was a dangerous Sherlock who would determinedly struggle to find answers. He lay down with his back to Sherlock.

“I wasn’t joking before. I’m tired and I need my bed.” John muttered, closing his eyes. It had been such a long, stressful week and he just wanted to sleep now. He heard Sherlock get up and, as he fell asleep, he heard Sherlock lean over him.

“I’ll make it better. I promise I’ll find out how, and then I’ll...It will be alright, John.”


	6. Chapter 6

John tiptoed along the hallway, avoiding the creaky floorboard, and slipped into his room. He needn’t have bothered. Sherlock was sitting at his desk with his hands steepled in front of him. 

“Logically,” Sherlock began without looking up at John, “There are four possible reasons for your recent behaviour.”

“Sherlock, just drop it!” John said, sounding angrier than he had intended. Sherlock’s eyes flickered towards him. John sat heavily on his bed, he had been trying to avoid this conversation but now it was here there wasn’t much he could do. 

“Number one; you have grown irritated with me and wish to end our friendship because of that. I have never had a friend before, so that would hardly be a surprise, however you showed none of the signs the others did.”

John swallowed convulsively, he knew that Sherlock was alone but it was difficult to hear him say such things. Sherlock’s flat, unemotional tone belied the years of loneliness and it pained John to think of Sherlock suffering. 

“Number two; you think that I’m a murderer and do not wish to be in my presence long enough for me to explain myself. Three; you are attracted to me, but do not wish to be, probably due to your own homophobia.”

John frowned, he wasn’t homophobic. Then he thought of the way that he’d run away when Sherlock had explained that some alphas preferred other alphas. To Sherlock it must have looked like he was running away out of disgust. John almost smiled at the idea, as long as Sherlock had such notions then he would never guess John’s secret.

“Number four; Mycroft,” Sherlock sneered in distaste at even saying his brother’s name, “said something to scare you off.”

John frowned again, he didn’t like to dwell too much on what Mycroft had said. The man spoke so vaguely, he seemed to make the same jumps in logic that Sherlock did but without any of the explanations that made talking to Sherlock so exciting. 

“I see that reason number two is the most pressing. Sally Donovan took her own life and, no matter how culpable I feel, it was her own insane grief over the death of her omega that drove her to it.”

“So, Donovan went crazy after her omega died and killed herself? Why would you feel guilty about that? That’s not your fault!”

“In the past, I used,” Sherlock glared harder at his fingers. “All the alphas here, I can smell their omegas on them and I couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think straight, so I found a way of synthesising an omega’s scent. I used to wear it myself. It was...surprisingly addictive. However, Donovan...She could not differentiate between my synthetic scent and that of Anderson’s, her dead omega’s. Her confusion led to an escalation of her grief.”

“Why didn’t you stop wearing it?”

“I would have,” Sherlock snapped petulantly, finally looking away from his fingers to briefly turn his glare on John, “But it was the only time I could relax.”

“When you could smell someone else’s omega on you?” John couldn’t stop himself from feeling unreasonably angry at the idea of Sherlock smelling of this strange omega. 

“It didn’t smell like Anderson! I would never have wanted that buffoon’s scent on me.”

“But it was close enough that it drove Donovan mad.”

Sherlock deflated, sagging into the chair, he turned his gaze to the ceiling, avoiding looking at John. 

“I didn’t realise how much it was affecting her until too late.”

“And now? Are you still using it?”

Sherlock frowned. 

“No. I threw it away after Donovan’s death.”

They sat in silence, Sherlock determinedly avoiding John’s gaze. He could hardly blame Sherlock for using the synthetic scent, he hadn’t realised he was driving Donovan crazy. If anyone was to blame it was John himself, if he hadn’t abandoned his alpha then Sherlock would never have resorted to drugs to make himself feel less alone. John shook his head, he couldn’t think like that. He was here now, and although he could not be Sherlock’s omega, he could at least be his friend. Of course, it would be dangerous to be Sherlock’s friend, but he’d been upset and emotional when he had decided that he could just end their friendship, the situation was more complicated than that. Anyway, this past week had proved that Sherlock would only become more suspicious, and more inquisitive, if John ended their friendship. 

“How did you synthesise his scent?”

For a second the look on Sherlock’s face was indecipherable, almost angry, but then it faded and he gave a little shrug. 

“With Dr. Stevens in charge of the Chemistry lab's security there are five fully stocked laboratories for anyone who can pick a lock.”

John wanted to ask if Sherlock still needed the drug, if he was still addicted; but he was terrified that Sherlock would say that he did not. What if Sherlock’s addiction had ended because his own omega was so close? At the moment Sherlock blamed his own guilt for curing his addiction, John did not want Sherlock to link his own arrival with Sherlock no longer needing fake omega scent. John shook his head again. Maybe it was possible to go back to how things had been at the start of term. They could be friends again. He had been so panicked when he had realised that Sherlock was his alpha, but really, so long as they never had sex, they could still be friends.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” John asked. Sherlock smirked and looked at John properly for the first time. 

“Yes. And let it brew properly this time, you have a terrible habit of making weak tea,” Sherlock said imperiously. The switch between Sherlock trying desperately to reconcile them and his supreme confidence was startling. John grinned, however mercurial his mood changes were it was good to see Sherlock back to normal.

* * *

“And then, my Nellie and I will go and see her family for the weekend, and then the rest of half-term with my folks in Surrey. I always say that we should spend longer with her parents, but she never seems inclined and I’m not sure why. I do wonder - ”

“Watson!” a yell cut through Stamford’s ramblings as they left the science block. John turned to see Lestrade running towards them. 

“There you are, Watson! I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Can you give these to Holmes for me?” Lestrade panted, holding out a folder for John to take. He didn’t make a move to take it, John wasn’t sure how he felt about Lestrade and his odd relationship with Sherlock.

“Come on, Watson. I really need his help, and now the two of you are talking again he might be in a good enough mood to read these. Please?” Lestrade practically whined. It was the way that he acknowledged John was responsible for Sherlock’s good mood that convinced him. John took the folder.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver! Cheers!” Lestrade said, beaming at him. 

“I..You're welcome.” 

Lestrade smiled again and then, with a nod towards Stamford, walked away. 

John and Stamford both turned to watch him leave. 

“Hmm..He seemed eager,” Stamford commented with a smile.

“Holmes says he’s gay.” John said, wanting to see Stamford’s reaction, but the boy only shrugged.

“I imagine Holmes says a lot of things. Although, I think he’s probably right. Doesn’t really matter though, does it?” Stamford looked at him inquiringly. 

“No, no, I don’t care,” John stammered, trying to think of way of phrasing his question, “It’s just, Holmes and he seem very close... Do you think? They ever?”

Stamford burst out laughing. 

“No! Holmes is obsessed with omegas! Anyway, would it matter if Holmes and he were together? I mean..” Stamford paused, his face blushing a deep red. “There’s nothing wrong with two alphas together, Watson, especially if they’re both single. In fact, it makes a lot of sense, in my opinion. Look, why don’t you come round on Friday again. Its our last night before half-term. I’ll get some proper alcohol in.”

John paused before answering. Stamford had thought he was jealous of Lestrade and Sherlock’s relationship. The thought made him feel so odd he agreed to drinks before he remembered he had intended to stop drinking.


	7. Chapter 7

Something in the stillness of the morning woke John. He glanced around, surprisingly awake, to see that he still had another hour before breakfast started. He turned over to snuggle back into his warm duvet when his eyes fell onto the pillow next to him. John screamed. 

Right next to his face was a human skull, grinning manically at him. 

He heard Sherlock running across the hall and bursting into his room.

“John? What’s - Oh, you found it then?”

“Found it?? It’s yours? You left a skull in my bed?” John couldn’t help the way his voice rose.

“Yes. I thought you’d like it.” Sherlock said defensively, seemingly unable to understand why John was reacting so negatively. “You’re studying anatomy and he’ll be useful.”

“I..That’s..Really quite thoughtful actually, but,” John asked with a sigh, “Why did you sneak it into my room in the middle of the night?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Sherlock frowned at him, “You _do_ like it, don’t you?” he asked cautiously. 

John looked back down at the skull.

“It’s a present.” Sherlock hesitated, “I used to talk to him, but now you’re here I don’t need him.”

John reached out to stroke the skull; it was actually a rather touching gift, despite how Sherlock had chosen to deliver it. 

“Thank you,” John said, turning to see a slightly flushed looking Sherlock staring down at him intently as he sat up in bed. 

“You’re welcome.” Sherlock pursed his lips, “Are you going home for half-term?”

“I guess so, I thought everyone did.”

“No, I’m staying here. You can too, if you want.”

John shrugged. He had found it so difficult to say goodbye to his parents, but now he was here he didn’t feel homesick at all. In fact, he rather liked the idea of staying here with Sherlock. 

“Maybe, I’ll have to make sure it’s alright with my parents.” 

Sherlock twisted his lips into a small smile. 

“Good”

* * *

“Mum? It’s me.”

“John? Darling, is that you? Oh, it’s so good to hear from you! How are you? Arthur! ARTHUR! John’s on the phone!”

John shifted uncomfortably. The bank of payphones was just outside the dining hall and he had no privacy at all. A couple of first years wandered past him, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“I’m alright. How are things at home?”

“Good, good. Harry’s been a bit..unwell, but she’s all better now. And you? Tell me everything.”

John turned to face the phone.

“Lessons are going well. I’m actually doing really well compared to the others. But, I was thinking, about staying here for half-term. If that’s alright.” 

There was a moment of silence as he heard his mother take a deep breath. 

“Of course it’s alright, John. Whatever you think is best.”

“Yeah, um, thank you, I think it would be useful, you know, having the labs and the library without all the younger years around. So, what’s wrong with Harry?”

As John listened to his mother talk about Harry’s increasingly rebellious behaviour, and the effect it was having on Clara, he fiddled with the phone cord. It felt like he was hearing about stories from another lifetime, a time before Sherlock came into his life.

* * *

“You _are_ staying for half-term!”

John grinned at how happy Sherlock looked. It was nice to have someone who so obviously valued his companionship. 

“Yeah, how did - oh, shit, I forgot about this. Lestrade gave this to me the other day, to give to you.” John said, handing over the file. Sherlock took it and quickly opened it up to start reading the papers within.

“So, you and Lestrade. You seem to be close.”

Sherlock glanced up with a frown that turned to smile as soon as he saw John’s face.

“Not really.”

“Oh, okay.”

John left to go and put the kettle on. He usually waited for it boil, but today he couldn’t be bothered. He returned to his room to find Sherlock still bent over Lestrade’s papers.

“But you’re friends?” John asked, too late realising that his question probably didn’t make much sense. Luckily, Sherlock seemed to understand as he looked up with a smile.

“You’re my only friend.”

John knew he shouldn’t feel relieved when Sherlock said that, it was horrible that he was so isolated, but he didn’t like to think of Sherlock and Lestrade together. 

“What is it he wants you to look over?”

“Lestrade is the only child of a high-ranking member of the Metropolitan police. His father is also, unfortunately, incredibly homophobic. Lestrade routinely borrows the notes of cases currently being investigated by the police in the hope that if he is able to solve the case he will, somehow, win his father’s love, or, at the very least, his respect.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Yes, well. The old man is quite pragmatic about it, he allows his son to take the case notes in exchange for the dramatically increased number of solved cases. Although, I imagine that will change when he realises that Lestrade isn’t actually solving any of them. I am.”

“You are?”

“Of course. It’s perfect, John. I read the case notes and I can deduce what happened. But this,” Sherlock gestured down at the papers on the desk, “This is something else. Lestrade’s never given me anything quite like this. This time he’s given me a murder, well, two murders to be precise.”

John stared at him in shock.

“You want to solve a murder?”

“No, John, I want to solve two murders. But I suppose we should pick one to start with. Oh, this is perfect. We have all of half-term to investigate. Now, which one do you want to start with? The Powers case; champion swimmer drowned, or the Vavasour case; suicide a week after killing his omega?”

“The omega case,” John said automatically, “You know, that doesn’t count as murder though.”

Sherlock looked at him appraisingly, and nodded before speaking.

“It should.”

* * *

Friday dragged by slowly, each teacher giving them a ridiculous amount of homework amid dire warnings about finishing off their personal statements for their UCAS forms. It was nerve-wrecking and exhilarating for John, who had once despaired that he would never be allowed to attend university, yet he here he was, filling out his application form.

After showering and changing, he walked slowly to Stamford’s rooms. It was a lovely evening and he was officially on holiday. He was feeling very relaxed by the time he arrived on Stamford’s hall. An alpha opened their door and stepped out, John didn’t recognise him. All he knew about Stamford’s hall mates was that Stamford didn’t really associate with them.

The alpha was rather small, no taller than John, but he had an air of menace that instantly made John nervous. The stranger sniffed at the air in a way that was oddly reminiscent of Mycroft Holmes. An unnerving smile bloomed across the boy’s face and he stepped towards John. 

John tried to not be intimidated, but when the alpha took another step towards him, John felt himself backing up until he could feel the wall behind him.

“Well now, aren’t you odd, hmm?” The alpha leaned forward, his nose almost touching John’s neck, “Curiouser and _spuriouser._ ”

John shoved the alpha away, but he wasn’t strong enough to move the slight man, instead the boy let out a high-pitched giggle. 

“Now, now, don’t be naughty.”

“Watson! Is that you?” Stamford yelled happily, flinging open his door and freezing as he saw John backed against the wall.

“I say, Moriarty? Is everything alright?” Stamford said without his usual cheerfulness. The alpha, Moriarty, backed away from John slowly.

“Oh yes, Stamford. Everything’s just perfect.”

John pushed past him as soon as there was space, almost running into Stamford’s room. He heard Stamford click the door shut behind him as he slumped down on a chair. 

“God, I could use that drink now.”

* * *

He’d drunk too much again. He’d lost track of how much he was drinking as he let Stamford’s mindless chatter wash over him. John stumbled into his bedroom. Sherlock was sitting behind his desk.

John lay down on his bed, not bothering to take his shoes off.

“Sherlock...”

“You’ve been drinking with Stamford.” Sherlock said accusingly.

John tried to shrug, but it was too uncomfortable, so he curled himself up into a ball. He’d been so worried all evening. Damn that Moriarty. No one was supposed to know about the suppressants, but somehow that alpha had recognised the smell.

John felt something moving on his foot and looked round to see Sherlock standing next to his bed, taking off his shoes. John held out his hand to Sherlock.

“I’m so worried, Sherlock.”

Sherlock took his hand and let John pull him down so they were lying beside each other on the bed. John rolled over, carrying Sherlock’s hand with him and backing himself against Sherlock’s body. He could feel Sherlock’s chin digging into his scalp and the gentle movement of his hair with each breath that Sherlock let out.

A hand gently stroked his side and John closed his tired eyes.

“You don’t have anything to worry about. Sometimes I think that you’re so perfect for me, you must be...but that’s impossible, no omega could ever stop themselves from finding their alpha.”

John clung onto Sherlock’s large hand and felt safe for the first time since he’d met Moriarty.


	8. Chapter 8

John woke feeling warm and comfortable, despite still being fully dressed. He snuggled into the warm mass at his back and then jolted fully awake as he felt the press of a hard cock against his arse. He had fallen asleep in Sherlock’s arms. 

John lay completely still, taking shallow breaths. He didn’t want Sherlock to wake up. It felt so good to lie together like this, but he knew that as soon as Sherlock woke up he would have to ask him to leave, have to tell him that they could only ever be friends.

It was odd to think that if he had gone to Sherlock two years ago then he would probably be used to this feeling. He would probably wake up every morning in Sherlock’s arms. He was surprised at the wave of sadness that struck him at that thought; he would only ever have this one night with his alpha. 

Sherlock stirred in his sleep, pushing his hips forward so that his cock pressed harder against John, making him gasp at the sudden wave of lust and emptiness he felt. Behind him, Sherlock let out a low moan. 

“John?” Sherlock’s voice was low and rough with sleep. He twisted around to look Sherlock in the face, his eyes endearingly puffy. If things had been different he would know this face intimately by now. 

“John!” Sherlock said sharply, as he realised where he was and pushed himself away from the other boy. John frowned at him. 

“I’m, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed here last night.” Sherlock said, as he stood up, his erection obvious.

John wanted to tell him that he could stay here, he wanted Sherlock to come back to bed and hold him for a little bit longer. But he couldn’t. It was for the best that he left, but Sherlock didn’t know that. Sherlock was rejecting him. 

“That’s okay,” John mumbled, trying to hide how much Sherlock’s behaviour was hurting him. 

“John,” Sherlock said softly, before breaking off and barking out, “Get dressed. Come on! We have a case to solve.” With that he hurried out of the room, not looking back as John stared after him.

* * *

He had never felt awkward in Sherlock’s company before, but he did now. The hour long train ride seemed to last for ever as they sat in an uneasy silence. John knew he shouldn’t feel this way. It was for the best that Sherlock didn’t want him. He stared miserably at the back gardens that flew past the train window as they got closer to London. Every once in a while he would forget himself and glance at Sherlock, before blushing and turning away. 

Sherlock stared impassively out of the window and John never caught him looking at him.

* * *

“On Thursday evening, Charles Vavasour jumped to his death from Archway Bridge. Last week he beat his omega, Liam Vavasour, to death.”  
John made a quiet noise of shocked disgust. Of course, alphas were perfectly within their rights to kill their omegas, but that was a particularly vicious way to do it. 

“Now, Archway Bridge is commonly known as a suicide bridge, and the distance between it and St John’s Wood is not great. But really, there are easier ways of killing oneself, that would have been much closer to home. Liam Vavasour originally came from Archway.”

“So you’re saying that he chose that bridge out of remorse, for killing his omega?”

“I’m not making any such assumptions until I have thoroughly inspected the crime scene.”

“The crime scene? Sherlock, no actual crime has been committed here.”

“You don’t think murdering an omega is a crime?” Sherlock said, stopping walking to turn and look at John for the what felt like the first time all morning. 

“Well, of course...but,” John swallowed, “Most people don’t. Not if the omega belongs to that alpha.”

Sherlock’s eyes softened, but when he spoke his retained a brusque quality. 

“This was the home of Charles and Liam Vavasour.”

The house was a large, red brick affair, set back by a gravelled driveway. The front garden looked well maintained and various trees around the house gave the place a feeling of privacy, despite the proximity to the other houses on the road. 

“So, what are we going to do now? Did you want to get a feel for the neighbourhood or something?” John asked, confused. Sherlock gave him a look of deep disgust.

“No. We’re going to have a look inside. We can hardly hunt for clues out here!”

“You want to break in?” John whispered, suddenly paranoid that someone would overhear their criminal intentions. Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

“No, John,” he said, starting up the driveway, “Technically we won’t be breaking in. The house has a keypad lock, and I know the code.”

John hurried after him, finally catching up as Sherlock stood in the little porch, his hand hovering over the keypad.

“What happens if we get caught? What if the code has been changed? What if there’s an alarm?” John hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the empty driveway.

Sherlock gave an annoyed sigh. 

“The absolute worst that could happen, which is incredibly unlikely, is that we get caught, the police show up and then Mycroft smooths everything over and gives us a lecture on the importance of not embarrassing him. The code was in the police report, which they gave to me; this is probably legal anyway.”

John bit his lip worriedly and Sherlock’s hand still hovered above the keypad.

“Do you really want me to stop?” Sherlock asked. John swallowed heavily. They were breaking the law by going in here, and the last thing he needed was to be arrested. He had to take his suppressants every evening and he couldn’t spend the night in some cell. But then he thought of Liam, the omega, beaten to death. If Sherlock thought something odd had happened here, then it should be investigated, and Sherlock was the only person John trusted to do so.

“Let’s do it.” 

Sherlock smiled at him for the first time all day, and John felt a rush of happiness. He hated himself for it, it was such a stereotypical omega thing to feel, but pleasing his alpha made him happy.

* * *

John followed Sherlock from room to room, although Sherlock barely spoke to him. He was almost completely silent apart from the odd mutterings about how the house had been tidied up too much. 

After a while of seeing nothing, John stopped even trying and went to sit in the front room so that he could keep an eye on the drive way. They hadn’t tripped any alarms or anything, but John couldn’t relax while they stayed in this house. 

“John! Smell this!” Sherlock yelled as he raced into the room carrying a bar of soap. John shot a puzzled look at him, but still stood and gave an experimental sniff. 

“Smells like an alpha,” John frowned, “But not the alpha that owned this place. Vavasour was trying to make himself smell like a different alpha?”

“Exactly!” Sherlock said triumphantly, “But I found it in the omega’s bathroom. So, someone wanted _him_ to smell like another alpha.”

“What? But that’s..” John spluttered, “You’re saying someone deliberately planted that soap? Why?”

“Obviously, so that Charles Vavasour would kill his omega in a jealous rage. It must have been someone who knew the household well. Someone who knew they had separate bathrooms and who also had easy access to the house. They had a guest the night that Charles killed Liam. The dishwasher was filled, but never turned on. It’s full of the dishes used on that last night. The crockery would suggest that only two people dined here; but there are two used wine glasses and four dirty tumblers. Three tumblers were used for water and one for fruit juice. I’m certain that Charles was a teetotaller, in his study there is a bar stocked with all the traditional drinks that alpha businessmen offer their guests, but none of those bottles have been opened. So, if Charles didn’t drink alcohol, why were two wine glasses used? Who drank from the third water glass?” Sherlock asked eagerly, his obvious excitement making him look younger than usual.

“I dunno,” John said, blinking as he digested Sherlock’s rapid speech, “I mean, it’s a bit tenuous, isn’t it? It’s brilliant,” he hurried on at the hurt expression on Sherlock’s face, ”It’s just, it’s not a lot to go on.”

“It’s enough for now. All we have to do is find out who benefitted from his death and how they made this soap.”

“Do you think it was difficult to make that soap?”

“It wouldn’t be for me, all you need is a blood sample and access to a lab.”

John frowned as the implication of Sherlock’s word sank in. 

“You need a blood sample to fake a scent?”

Sherlock looked at him blankly.

“Yes,” he pursed his lips, but didn’t offer any more of an explanation, “We should leave. Come along, John.”

John hurried after him. 

“So, when you made that fake omega scent, you used someone’s blood?”

“Yes,” Sherlock snapped as he opened the door and strode outside, moving so quickly that John had to practically run to keep up with him.

“You used Anderson’s blood, didn’t you?”

Sherlock didn’t answer until they reached the road.

“Yes, alright. I did. I found his body and I took a sample of his blood. He was already dead. Carbon monoxide poisoning. It wasn’t my fault, there was nothing I could have done. I couldn’t have done anything to help him and I needed some omega blood. No-one would let me use their omega’s blood. I didn’t know what Donovan was going to do.” 

John had never seen Sherlock so emotional, he thought he could even see tears in the alpha’s eyes. He laid a hand gently on Sherlock’s arm.

“I’m sorry,” John said quietly. He wasn’t sure what he was apologising for; whether it was because John could not be Sherlock’s omega, or because of all the pain and guilt that Sherlock felt.

Sherlock didn’t deserve any of this. John wished his alpha was someone horrid, like Moriarty, so he wouldn’t feel so awful about deserting his alpha. Sherlock should have an omega, just not him. 

“Do you think you’ll ever find another omega?” John asked. Sherlock stared down at John’s hand as it rested on his arm. Finally he let out a sigh, and with his other hand, gently lifted John’s hand off him. 

“No, John. It’s too dangerous.”

“Huh? What do you mean, dangerous?”

“John,” Sherlock said sadly as he looked into John’s eyes, “It’s very rare for alphas and omegas to try to bond with anyone other than their intended, and it almost never works. There have been twelve cases in the UK in the last hundred years and in eleven of those the union drove the alpha insane, and in nine of those cases the alpha’s insanity led to the killing of the omega. No matter how much I might wish there was another way, that there was something we - that there was something that could be done, an alpha who has no omega can only partner a beta or another alpha.”

“Oh,” John said softly. He looked down at the pavement to hide his face from Sherlock. He didn’t want Sherlock to fancy him, but it hurt to see how upset Sherlock was because he could never be with an omega. Was John the beta so terribly unattractive? Maybe it was for the best that John had been able to avoid Sherlock if that was how he felt. 

“Is there anything else you want to do in town, or should we head back to school?” John asked, keeping his head down as he headed back towards the tube. 

“I want to buy a bottle of wine, for Friday, something nicer than Stamford buys in the tiny off-licence in the village.”

“You want to buy wine? I didn’t know you drank, you always seem annoyed whenever I go out for a drink.”

“I don’t often. But you drink wine on Fridays, so we need to buy wine.”

John blinked at the surprising thoughtfulness of Sherlock’s logic. 

“We...You don’t have to. I mean, it’s not like I have to drink on Fridays. It’s just sort of worked out that way a couple of times.”

Sherlock paused and looked at him oddly.

“You prefer drinking with Stamford than with me?”

“No! No, of course not. I think it would be a lot of fun, I’m just saying it’s not...necessary, if you don’t want to.”

Sherlock nodded abruptly.

“Well, as my company is at least as pleasurable as Stamford’s, we will buy a bottle of wine, for Friday, while we’re here.”

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time that they caught their train. Sherlock had his bottle of wine and a large pile of every newspaper that he could get his hands on from the last week. After a long day of trailing after Sherlock, John was exhausted and fell asleep as soon as they got on the train.


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock was sitting at his desk, almost hidden behind a large stack of newspapers when John returned to his room from Sunday morning breakfast. He’d brought Sherlock back some toast, which Sherlock pointedly ignored as he set the plate down on the desk. John smiled fondly and went to put the kettle on.

* * *

“Ah ha! Finally! This is it!” Sherlocked cried out.

John shook himself awake. He’d been trying to read his biology textbook, but he kept on dozing off.

“Austin Braithwaite, Vavasour’s business partner and close personal friend, will take over the company until such a time as Mr. Vavasour has recovered from his tragic loss. Primco profits have been steadily rising for the last four years, although..etc, etc. I found him. The alpha who benefitted from his death, and had access to his house. A man who knew that Vavasour was jealous and possessive, who knew how Vavasour would react to his omega smelling of a strange alpha.”

“I don’t think..” John said hesitantly, “Is that enough proof?”

Sherlock glared at him. 

“I’ve solved the case,” he whined, making John grin despite himself. 

“So you think Braithwaite made the soap?”

“No, no. He’s a businessman, not a chemist. But, yet he was the one who carried out the crime. Find who gave him the soap, and we’ll have all the proof we need. That shouldn’t be so hard to do.”

“Really? You’re the one bragging about how easily you can get access to a fully stocked lab.”

“Yes..Yes, I am.” Sherlock mused, steepling his fingers.

“Plus, I don’t think it’s that uncommon. One of the other upper sixth recognised my scent. I mean, I know it's a different thing, recognising the scent of suppressants and being able to make fake scent, but I think that it might be more common knowledge than you think,” John realised they hadn’t acknowledged his secret since that conversation at the start of term. It was scary to think that two people had recognised the alpha scent of his suppressant, it made John question how long he could keep up his own disguise.

“What? Who? Why didn’t you tell me? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” Sherlock said, his eyes flashing with anger.

“Moriarty. I think your brother knows too.” The words tumbled out his mouth as he felt overwhelmed by the need to tell Sherlock everything. He trusted Sherlock so much and, despite everything else, he knew that Sherlock could make things better.

“Mycroft?” Sherlock asked, clearly startled. John nodded.

“That’s hardly surprising, he works in the Ministry of Omegas, he knows all about suppressants and every other drug that omegas...and betas take. But Moriarty? There’s no reason for him to know that, it's rather specialist knowledge, and, of course, he also has access to the school labs.”

“Sherlock! You’re suggesting he gave the soap to Braithwaite. There’s no way that it’s him, he’s just some creepy boy at our school.”

“I have to call Lestrade.” Sherlock said, standing and ignoring John as he strode out of the room. John sank onto his bed, taking in what Sherlock had just said. So Mycroft had recognised the scent of his suppressants, as soon as he had stepped into the room he had known that John was not an alpha. John sat up as he was struck by a startling thought, Mycroft had known that John was an omega, he had no idea how, but Mycroft had known. He’d been worried that he would do something to Sherlock, somehow take advantage of Sherlock’s obsession with omegas and his addiction to their scent. John paused to shake his head at his own blindness. Mycroft had called it Sherlock’s affliction, but he was talking about Sherlock’s addiction. 

But then Mycroft had seen something that had made him stop threatening John. Something about his reaction, his distress at the very idea of Sherlock being in pain, had stopped Mycroft’s threats. 

Mycroft knew he was Sherlock’s missing omega, and thus not a threat to Sherlock. Mycroft had even smiled when he realised who John was. He’d asked John to get Sherlock to attend his classes, like a good little omega should. John felt his stomach turn to ice and he gasped for air as his body seemed to have forgotten how to breathe. 

If Mycroft knew then he would, eventually, tell Sherlock. He wasn’t going to let Sherlock be alone for the rest of his life. 

John leaned forward, bile rising and blocking his throat. He was going to puke. 

He would have to tell Sherlock. It was the only way. He was going to be livid, Sherlock could do anything to him. Most people would probably even think Sherlock justified if he killed John. He could feel his fingers trembling with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. There was no escape, he had always known he might one day face his alpha, but never, ever had he dreamed it would be like this. 

He heard Sherlock’s footsteps in the hallway, he was returning to his own room after making his phone call. 

John stood quickly, but he couldn’t quite get his feet to move. He looked down at his black leather shoes. His mum had bought him this pair just before he came here. There were a couple of scuff marks on them already. These little details suddenly seemed incredibly relevant as he tried to face what he was sure would be his own, horrible end. 

He lifted one foot slowly. He wanted to do it quickly, but it felt like he wasn’t really in control of his own body anymore. Like his muscles had taken control because what he was about to do was too dangerous.

* * *

Far too soon he was standing outside Sherlock’s door. He hesitated. Sherlock never knocked on his door, so maybe he wouldn’t want John to knock either. But then, Sherlock had never said that John could use his room, like John had done. He was torn. He didn’t want to get something so stupid wrong, and upset Sherlock before he even started talking. He knocked.

“Come in, John,” Sherlock yelled through the door. John pushed the door open slowly to find Sherlock sitting on the floor, surrounded by various notebooks. He frowned when he looked up at John’s stricken face. 

“Sit,” he said, pointing at his bed. John swallowed nervously, he really didn’t want to go near Sherlock’s bed, but then, after what he was about to tell Sherlock, he supposed he would just have to get used to it. 

“I wanted to tell you something. About me. If now is a good time.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Is this about what Mycroft said to you? I knew it! Reason number four on my list of why you didn’t want to be friends anymore. ” Sherlock looked nervous as he stared at John. It almost made John giggle, Sherlock had no reason to be nervous. 

“No..Not really.”

“Because, Mycroft won’t do anything. He was actually really happy after he met you. He liked the idea of me having a friend, thought that it would calm me down. So, so just stop. Stop looking sad. We have to get back to the case. Lestrade agreed with you about Moriarty, told me there wasn’t enough evidence,” Sherlock said anxiously.

John looked down at the floor. Mycroft definitely knew. 

“I...The thing is, I always wanted to be a doctor. More than anything else in the world.” He stopped, that wasn’t how he wanted to start. He was about to have the most important conversation of his life and he hadn’t planned for it at all. Sherlock was staring at him, his eyes wide with shock.

“John, you don’t have to...I do, already...I know you aren’t a beta.”

“Oh.” He paused to lick his lips. “How did you find out?” John asked, stalling for time. 

“I knew when I first found your suppressants that they would change your scent whether you were a beta or an omega. When you said you were a beta, I thought it would be best if I agreed. You said you were my friend, and then you said you were a beta. There were clues, later, but I wasn’t completely sure until the other night, when we slept together. You looked so...perfect.”

John felt tears gathering in his eyes.

“I was so scared, and I swear I never meant to hurt you, Sherlock.”

The was a loud bang from the hallway. Someone had thrown open the door to their hallway. The school should have been pretty much empty on the first Sunday of half-term. 

“I..” John stammered, unsure how to continue, “Maybe, I should just check who that was.” Sherlock nodded wordlessly, his mouth hanging slightly open, as John left, closing Sherlock’s door behind him.

A tall, heavy-set omega that he didn’t recognise was standing down the hall, his hand raised ready to knock on John’s door.

“Hey, are you looking for me?” John called out, walking towards the omega.

“You Watson?” the omega asked in a barely intelligible grunt.

“Yes.” 

The omega put out his right hand, as if to shake John’s hand. It was an unusual gesture, but John rather liked that this omega seemed confident touching a strange alpha.

“I’m Moran,” he said as he gripped hold of John’s hand. John frowned, Moran was Moriarty’s omega. 

Moran tightened his grip on John’s hand and yanked him forward, clamping his other arm around John’s neck and twisting him, so that, before John was even really aware of how he’d managed it, Moran had him in a headlock.

“Johnny boy!” a voice called out with obvious delight. John lifted his head as much as he was able and saw Moriarty standing in the entrance to the hall. “I can’t tell you how good it is to see you again!”

John yelled. Moran’s headlock was tight and the noise came out as an indistinct cry. He’d been trying to yell for Sherlock. 

“Oh, do relax, Johnny boy.” Moriarty continued cheerfully as Sherlock flung his door open. “Holmes! So nice of you to join us! Now, before you go and do anything stupid, I want you to take a good look at what Moran is clutching in his hand. One false move and your little friend gets injected with...” Moriarty giggled, “Well, let's just say, something rather nasty.”

John felt Moran’s grip around his neck loosen and the prick of a needle pressed into the skin at the back of his neck. He tensed automatically, keeping his head down so he could only see Sherlock’s shoes down the hallway. 

“I’ve been thinking about coming to see you for a while now, Holmes. You’ve been taking quite an interest in my affairs, and I thought it was time I returned the favour. I’m a fair man, though, I could let you have a few little victories. What are a couple of knick-knacks here and there between friends? I don’t care if you solve the odd burglary, or fraud, that Lestrade pushes your way. 

“But then, you had to stick your nose into my nice little sideline. You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, and you just couldn’t keep quiet about it, could you? Phoning up your little pretend policeman to tell him all your clever little theories and telling everyone within earshot about what an interesting fellow I am. 

“Now, I can’t have that, can I? So, I’m going to offer you a deal. I can inject your little pet here, or I can give you your own syringe and you can inject yourself and I’ll let Watson go free. What do you think? The life of a fake alpha for a real one, it should be obvious!”

John didn’t dare look up at Sherlock, he could only stare at Sherlock’s still feet. 

“Don’t - ” John yelled, but Moran tightened his hold around John’s throat, cutting him off.

“This is ridiculous, I have no guarantee that you’ll let Watson go,” Holmes’ voice sounded calmer and more controlled than John would have believed possible. 

“No, I suppose not. But I can guarantee Moran will inject Watson if you don’t.”

John tried to struggle, but he could feel Moran pressing the needle against him. His own breath sounded loud in the silence as Sherlock weighed his options. 

“Give it to me.” Sherlock’s voice was steady, as John closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe this was happening, it was all so quick. Ten minutes ago he’d been scared to tell Sherlock the truth about themselves, and now Sherlock was about to sacrifice himself for John. He could hear Sherlock rolling up his sleeve as he prepared to inject himself. 

“Oh, very good. Very touching. Do have any idea what you just injected into yourself, hmm? It’s just a harmless little sedative. We have just enough time for a nice little chat before you pass out.”

John saw Sherlock’s knees buckle and he slowly slid down the wall, until he was sitting on the floor. Now John could see his face and, as they gazed at one another, John saw fear in Sherlock’s eyes and he knew it was for him. He tried to give a reassuring smile to Sherlock, but he knew it looked more like a grimace.

“I had the most wonderful idea when I met Watson the other day. I knew he was your friend and I knew I needed some way to get to you. So imagine my delight when I realised he wasn’t an alpha, not with that delicious scent. But then little Watson tried to push the big, bad alpha away, and he just wasn’t strong enough. Even betas aren’t that weak. So what does that make our Watson? Why an OMEGA, OF COURSE!” His teasing voice suddenly raised into a yell. 

“And who is it that’s obsessed with omegas? Isn’t that, isn’t that you, Holmes? Holmes? Oh, you’re asleep. Well, I daresay everything will be quite obvious by the time you wake up. Go on then, darling.”

John felt Moran push the needle into his skin. He tried to struggle and to push Moran away, but his limbs were already sluggish.

“Can you carry him?” he heard Moriarty ask, his voice sounding like it came from far away. John felt himself being lifted and turned and then he was fast asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

It was the smell that woke John. It was delicious, and although John knew the source of it was nearby, he had the urge to get even closer. He stretched slowly, his muscles complaining and he blinked his eyes open. He was lying on the floor of a small, windowless room. A single fluorescent bulb showed John he was not alone. Sherlock lay on the floor a few metres away from him, still unconscious. 

John stood slowly. He felt like he’d been asleep for ages, the thought made his stomach twist with sudden fear. He hadn’t taken his suppressants. 

He didn’t know if exposure to his alpha was affecting him, but Sherlock didn’t usually smell quite this enticing to him. He sniffed his own hand experimentally. There was still a trace of his fake alpha scent, but it was almost faint under his own, distressingly omega, natural scent. It was a terrifying realisation. He ran for the door, twisting the handle and slamming his shoulder against the thick wood. It didn’t even budge. 

“John?” Sherlock called out croakily, rubbing at his eyes. He paused as he sat up, giving the air a cautious sniff.

“John,” he repeated accusingly, his voice low and breathy, “This is Moriarty’s plan then. Lock us together, without your suppressants. He thinks that I’ll try and bond with you, even though you aren’t mine. I’d be driven insane; everything I told Lestrade, my theory about Moriarty, would be discredited as the ramblings of a madman.”

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I won’t. I won’t risk you like that. Just, for God’s sake, stay back! Why do you smell so _good?_ ” Sherlock hissed, clenching his fists. 

John looked down at his friend, he looked like he was in agony. He couldn’t let him suffer anymore. 

“Sherlock, it’s alright,” John said softly, stepping forwards. Sherlock scuttled backwards until his back hit the wall and he opened his eyes to stare wildly at John.

“No! I won’t hurt you!”

“You’re not going to hurt me.” He’d been so scared to tell Sherlock before, but now he felt oddly calm. 

“Don’t be ridiculous! Of course I would! I could kill you. Please, John, I couldn’t bear it.” Sherlock pleaded as John stepped closer and knelt down so that he could look Sherlock in the eye. He had already been too long without his suppressants; he could feel his heat coming on, his skin felt itchy and sensitive and his arse was definitely getting damp.

“Sherlock, I...You wouldn’t hurt me because I’m yours.”

Sherlock’s glazed eyes locked onto John’s face.

“You’re lying, if that were true you would have come to me before. Stop trying to trick me, I told you, I refuse to hurt you. Now, stay back.”

“It’s true,” John said, staying his ground. Sherlock’s eye twitched and he let out a heavy gasp, as if he were struggling to catch his breath.

“ _I was so scared, and I swear I never meant to hurt you._ That’s what you were coming to tell me.”

John gave a small nod. Sherlock moved so quickly that John could barely react as Sherlock pounced on to him, knocking him backwards so that he lay on the floor with Sherlock on top of him. 

“Say it again,” Sherlock said, arranging himself with one hand resting on either side of John’s head. John peered up at Sherlock, their faces only an arm’s length apart. He swallowed heavily.

“I’m yours,” he said hesitantly. Sherlock leaned down and touched their foreheads together, a massive grin splitting his face.

“My omega,” he whispered reverently. “How is this possible?” John felt Sherlock’s breath on his face as he spoke. Sherlock’s tone was almost wondrous, but John was terrified. He had no idea how to explain himself to Sherlock.

“When I presented, I did smell you, but I just didn’t...” Sherlock pulled away to look John in the eye, he was no longer smiling; in fact he looked like he was about to cry.

“Two years, John, I’ve been alone for two years. Why? Did you see me? Did you follow my scent and decide you didn’t want me?”

“NO! It wasn’t like that. I never followed your scent.”

“You’re everything I ever wanted, why didn’t you want me? Why, John?” Sherlock sounded like he was pleading with John, his eyes frantically searching John’s. The swift changes in Sherlock’s moods were unsettling and John had no idea what to expect next.

“It wasn’t...It was never about you, Sherlock.”

“I needed you, I was so alone,” Sherlock’s face darkened. John opened his mouth to try and explain himself, but the look of anger on Sherlock’s face silenced him.

“I killed someone, you drove me to that. All my guilt and it’s your fault. You did this to me.” Sherlock practically yelled, his fury becoming fiercer as he spoke.

Sherlock sat up so that he straddled John’s thigh’s. He pushed up John’s jumper and shirt to expose John’s belly, then began pulling at the fastenings of John’s trousers. John didn’t dare push him away, instead he closed his eyes and turned his head, so that his cheek rested on the cold floor.

“It was never your fault; Donovan killed herself, you were never responsible for that. Yes, I’m to blame for you being alone, but I...I never meant to hurt you, please, I just wanted to be my own person.” John’s voice was soft, he doubted that Sherlock was even capable of hearing him, he seemed so consumed by his rage.

Sherlock pulled John’s trousers and pants down to his knees in one swift movement, a reminder to John of just how strong his alpha truly was. The sudden of gust cold air on his cock made John gasp; his body felt hot as his estrus approached, it would have been a relief to have taken his clothes off if he were alone. Without Sherlock pinning him down and holding his legs apart whilst he examined John. He whimpered as Sherlock trailed a long finger slowly up his inner thigh. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or pleasure that made him moan as Sherlock carefully traced the edge of his wet hole. 

“I could kill you right now, fuck you, no-one would even blame me. I can live without you, just like you obviously don’t need me. But I’ll make you want me, isn’t that what you’re begging for now? My alpha cock in your tight omega arse?” Sherlock’s voice was no longer raised, his cruelty more controlled. 

John couldn’t stop himself, he burst into tears. Fat tears streamed down his cheek and onto the floor as he kept his head still, his face remained averted from Sherlock. He gulped down air and tried to stop crying. 

“Don’t,” John panted out through his tears. Sherlock had stopped moving, and now he moved away. John lifted his head and saw that Sherlock had moved back to his position against the wall. John wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to correct his bleary vision.

The sounds of John's snuffles as he gradually stopped crying seemed to echo around the room. He pulled his clothes back up, even though the fabric scratched at his skin. Slow minutes passed until he felt in control enough to look at Sherlock.

He was sitting on the floor, his hands covering his face and his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

“I’m sorry, Sherlock.” John said. He didn’t understand why Sherlock had stopped. It was, after all, his right as John’s alpha.

Sherlock lifted his head and looked at John with wide eyes. 

“I always knew I didn’t deserve an omega, and it’s true. The first thing I do is hurt you. You, who is so afraid of alphas that you managed to stop yourself coming to me.” Sherlock let out a bitter laugh. “When I was a child I thought omegas were dull. Why on Earth would I want some mindless little drone hanging off every word I said? It would be terribly tedious. If I had had a choice back then I wouldn’t have wanted my omega, so how can I blame you?”

John blinked in astonishment. He had expected Sherlock to be brutal; he’d always assumed that alphas roughly claimed their omegas as soon as they came near them. Yet here was Sherlock, upset that he had made John cry and even seeming to understand John’s reasoning. It went against everything John knew about alphas.

“If I had known it was you, I would have come to you,” John said, only realising as he spoke how true the words were. 

“When did you realise? Oh, on the roof.” Sherlock nodded to himself. “You’re going into heat,” he added tonelessly.

“Yeah. Are you, are you going to let me finish my A levels?” John asked timidly. He desperately hoped Sherlock would allow him to continue his studies. Sherlock gave a small, sad shake of his head. John could almost feel his heart breaking, all his hopes and dreams evaporated with a slight movement of his alpha’s head.

“John! You idiot!” Sherlock barked out, “how can you possibly think that I would stop your education? You’re my omega, my omega doctor!”

“You mean..?” John trailed off, his eyes widening with shock. He could barely believe what Sherlock had just said. 

Sherlock eased himself from the wall, slowly moving towards John until their face’s were practically touching.

“I mean that only three things are going to change. No more suppressants, I want everyone to know you’re mine, to smell me on you. Second, you’ll move into my omega room, which, really, will be much more convenient anyway.” John nodded, those both sounded reasonable.

“And the third change?”

Sherlock smirked.

“This.”

He leaned forward and kissed John. It was a gentle brush of lips, almost shy but as John’s eyes fluttered shut he followed Sherlock as he moved away, keeping their lips locked together. John had never been more aroused in his life. His mouth fell open as he let out a groan of desire. Sherlock’s tongue dipped into his mouth almost tentatively and John felt a shock of arousal surging through his whole body. 

He reached his arms around Sherlock’s neck, locking Sherlock’s head in place. He had no idea why he had been so afraid of this before, Sherlock tasted so delicious. John slowly leaned backwards, pulling Sherlock with him, until John was lying back on the ground with Sherlock’s comforting weight resting upon him. He needed Sherlock so much, he was so empty without him. John almost groaned with frustration as Sherlock pulled away.

“John, I...” the indecision and apprehension were written plainly across Sherlock’s face. 

He’d spent so much time fearing this moment, but, he suddenly realised, that everything would be alright. He had his alpha, but they weren't some terrible monster that would ruin his life. It was Sherlock, who had cared for him and bossed him around when they had been best friends, and that wasn't going to change.


	12. Chapter 12

John smiled cautiously up at Sherlock. 

When Harry had met her omega she had been so aggressive, almost incoherent as she had snarled at John. Sherlock was so different, he looked almost scared. It was certainly true that if he’d known Sherlock was his alpha, he would have come to him when he first presented. He wondered if he would have gone to his alpha anyway, if he hadn’t seen the way Harry treated Clara. Even Moriarty treated Moran better than Harry did Clara. 

Of course, that didn’t change the fact that he now needed Sherlock’s permission to be a doctor. But then, he did have Sherlock’s permission. John’s smile grew wider. Considering that being found by his alpha was the thing that had scared him most in all the world, it hadn’t actually gone that badly.

Sherlock moved slowly away from John and, standing up, he offered John a hand up. He bit his lip, a gesture of nervousness that looked odd on Sherlock’s face. 

“May I see you?”

John frowned in confusion.

“See me?” John queried, unsure what Sherlock meant. Sherlock blushed. His cheeks slowly becoming redder as John stared at them.

“I mean, you should take your clothes off. Because of your heat.” Sherlock said, his voice sounding controlled, almost imperious. But John knew that was no indicator of Sherlock’s mood, especially as he could see Sherlock’s brightly flushed cheeks and the way he swallowed nervously.

John pulled off his jumper and let it fall to the ground at his feet. He plucked at the top button of his shirt, exposing his throat; Sherlock’s eyes following his every movement gratifyingly. He slowly undid each button, until his shirt hung loose on his shoulders. His skin did feel better without the itch of cloth pressed against his chest. Sherlock stood almost preternaturally still, observing him but not making any move to touch him. 

“Your trousers.” Sherlock said with a slight hitch in his breathless voice. John shrugged his shirt off and let it flutter to the ground. The air felt refreshingly cool against his back. He bent down to take off his shoes and socks. Looking up at Sherlock through his eyelashes he could see the bulge of his trousered erection. 

Standing, he undid his trousers and pushed them, and his pants, down. The slow, sensual slide a contrast to the way Sherlock had pulled his clothes off earlier. He felt his own cock harden as Sherlock gazed at him, the attention making John feel attractive for the first time in his life. 

He closed his eyes as he stepped out of the last of his clothes, suddenly embarrassed now that he was completely naked.

“John, you’re, you’re beautiful,” Sherlock whispered in awe. John opened his eyes to see the way that Sherlock was looking at him, his pupils wide and his expression disbelieving. John gave him a small smile. The way that Sherlock looked made him feel almost powerful, like he had some sort of control of Sherlock. 

The thought made John’s cock twitch.

Sherlock took a step towards him, raising his hands but not quite touching John’s skin.

“May I..?”

John gave an astonished nod of his head. Sherlock didn’t need his permission, so why had he bothered asking? Sherlock drew back his hand as if he’d been bitten.

“You _can_ say no.”

John almost burst out laughing. He couldn’t say no. Even if he weren’t trapped in a room with an unbonded alpha, without his suppressants, he wouldn’t be able to say no to his alpha.

But, he didn’t want to say no. 

“It’s alright,” John said, his voice sounding strangely normal to his own ears. 

Sherlock reached out and put both his hands on John’s hip, the touch was light, a sensuous graze of his fingertips against John’s skin, as if he weren’t sure that John wanted this. One hand stayed in place whilst Sherlock slowly stroked his other hand upwards, gently caressing John’s stomach and side; his eyes flicking between watching what his own hand was doing and John’s face, cataloguing his reaction to his touch. 

Sherlock’s finger gently circled John’s nipple before giving it a soft pinch, making John gasp at how surprisingly sensitive it was; he’d never thought of himself as a particularly sexual person, but it felt like Sherlock was worshipping him. He was already completely hard, and his arse damp, the lube dribbling out of him and making him aware of his arse cheeks rubbing together. 

Sherlock’s arm was wrapped around him, slipping down his spine and into his cleft. He stopped as soon as he felt the wetness he found there. John blushed heavily, he knew it was a natural reaction, but it was still embarrassing. Sherlock brought his wet fingers to his face, and looked at John in astonishment as he sniffed the lube on his fingers. Sherlock took an experimental swipe at his fingers with his tongue. 

“You taste good,” he told John in a hushed voice. After a moment’s pause, he put one fingertip then another in his mouth, sucking off all the lube from his hand.

“I want..Lie down, John.” Sherlock said, already bending down to arrange their clothes for John to lie down upon. John shivered as he lay down, Sherlock settling himself between John’s open legs. For a few seconds the two of them stayed still, just looking at each other, Sherlock still fully dressed as he gazed down fondly at John. 

Sherlock bent suddenly and swallowed down John’s cock. John screamed at the sudden and completely unexpected intensity of the wet heat of Sherlock’s mouth.

“Oh, God! _Sherlock!_ ”

Sherlock sat up quickly, spluttering. By the time he stopped, his eyes were slightly bloodshot but there was a grin on his face. He lifted John’s legs so that his hole was completely exposed, and stared down at it contemplatively. John could feel his own wetness, his hole loose and ready for Sherlock. The thought made his hole spasm and clench, but Sherlock still didn’t touch him, he just kept on looking.

Slowly Sherlock bent over him again, this time he bypassed John’s cock and, instead, gave his hole a small lick. John let out another scream. He had never imagined anyone doing this to him. Sherlock’s tongue felt so wet and big as it slowly circled his rim.

“My omega,” he whispered into John, making him shiver as Sherlock’s exhalation caressed his sensitive skin. Then Sherlock began to lick at him in earnest. He was, John realised dimly, trying to lick up every drop of lube, until finally, as John thought he would go insane from need, he pushed his tongue inside John. He pulled out quickly, but before John could do more than gasp he had plunged back in again, and steadily began to fuck John with his tongue.

It was so good, but John could feel his heat getting stronger and he needed more. He wailed desperately, unable to form words while Sherlock’s tongue fucked him so mercilessly. Somehow Sherlock must have understood, because he pulled back. John felt instantly bereft and tried to spread his legs further apart to entice Sherlock back.

Sherlock, though, had other ideas. He reached up to kiss John on the lips. He could taste himself on Sherlock’s lips and he opened his mouth to taste more. Sherlock’s kiss was different this time, no longer tentative or shy, but hungry and possessive as he forced his tongue into John’s mouth. 

John groaned as he pulled away abruptly. Suddenly standing and towering above John, Sherlock began to strip. He pulled at his own clothes in a mad dash to get naked as quickly as possible. He only paused before he took his pants off, and John was able to see his body properly for the first time. For an alpha, Sherlock looked almost painfully thin and his skin pale even by English standards. 

“I’m not..” Sherlock stuttered, looking at John’s feet. 

“ _Sherlock!_ ” John moaned, desperate for his alpha to return to him.

Kneeling between his legs Sherlock slipped a finger inside him. The sudden slide was a delicious surprise, and John couldn’t help the way his back arched, trying to get closer to Sherlock. The finger inside him remained still. 

“John..John, I’m _inside_ you.” Sherlock whispered, his tone odd, but John didn’t have time to worry about it.

“More, Sherlock, _please_.” John begged, as Sherlock slowly pulled out. Two fingers were pushed into him, and this time John could feel more of a stretch, the friction an odd combination of pain and pleasure that he wasn’t sure he liked but knew he wanted more of. 

This time when Sherlock pulled out there was a longer wait, until finally John felt something large and blunt pushing at his entrance. The thought of Sherlock’s heavy, alpha cock made John shiver with desire. He could hardly believe all this was happening, but he knew he wanted Sherlock inside him. He pushed down, the head of Sherlock’s cock slipping inside him. The sudden invasion felt almost perfect, he just needed a little bit more. He tried to push down again, but this time Sherlock held onto him, stopping him from moving, he let out a dissatisfied mewl. 

Sherlock, was biting at his lower lip, an almost worried look on his face.

“Are you, does it hurt? You’re so tight..Should I stop?”

“Don’t stop!” John managed to choke out, trying to convey how calamitous it would be if Sherlock stopped.

Sherlock nodded, his confidence suddenly regained. He leaned back, holding John’s leg up with one hand and with the other caressed John’s hole as he sank further into him. John felt him rubbing at something deep inside him that made him gasp in sudden pleasure.

“So tight, God, John, you feel so good. I want..Can I move?” John clutched at Sherlock’s shoulders, he felt so entirely filled and it was the best thing he’d ever felt. Sometimes, when he was alone, he’d touch his hole, he’d run his fingers gently around the opening and maybe push the tip of one finger inside himself. This was nothing like that. This was a thousand times better. Sherlock’s cock inside him moved slightly, rubbing again at that spot. 

“Please,” John gasped, he had no idea why he was out of breath, he wasn’t even moving, but he could only pant down air as Sherlock slowly fucked him. His orgasm was a surprise to him, his cock remained untouched as his balls tightened and he came hard across his stomach. 

Sherlock stopped, trailing his fingers through John’s spunk, but John could feel himself hardening again. He needed Sherlock to continue. He clenched his arse around Sherlock’s cock and heard a satisfying gasp in return. 

Sherlock pulled out very slowly, and then, looking John in the eye, pounded back into him, setting a punishing pace as he fucked John into the floor. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” Sherlock panted, his face sweaty. John could feel his second orgasm approaching and he wanted to beg Sherlock not to stop, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a long, drawn out cry of need.

Sherlock came, his cock spasming in John’s arse. Then John felt the swell of his knot as it slowly tied them together and pressing tightly into that spot inside John that was giving him so much pleasure. The knot continued to swell, growing larger and larger until John wasn’t sure he could take any more pressure and he came with a stifled yell.

Sherlock collapsed on top of him. John could feel his heart beating rapidly as Sherlock nuzzled into his neck, his knot still keeping them together.

“You’re my omega,” he whispered into John’s ear, and then John felt Sherlock’s cock spasm, as he came inside John again.

* * *

John dozed and woke up to find Sherlock still resting on him. He shifted slightly, but they were still knotted, so he forced himself to be still. Sherlock snored gently into his ear. John turned his head as far as he could from Sherlock. 

That was it. Legally he wasn’t his own person anymore. Even with Sherlock as his alpha, it was difficult to accept. 

“John?” Sherlock whispered sleepily. John nodded without turning his head to look at Sherlock.

“I’m yours too,” Sherlock said, his voice stronger now. John turned his head to look at Sherlock questioningly.

“We’ll finish school, then university. Well, you’ll finish university, I’ll just take the courses that are actually relevant. You’ll be a doctor, and I’ll be a consulting detective. We’ll be happy. We’ll be...equal, I promise.”

John gave him a small smile. It was a lovely idea, and he didn’t want to say anything to ruin the mood.

“Have you ever felt your knot before?”

“No, you know it only swells during an omega’s heat,” Sherlock paused, then carried on with a grin, “During your heat.”

John could feel it going down as Sherlock softened. He let out a grunt as Sherlock slipped out of him, a small stream of lube and come following him. 

The feeling of emptiness returned almost immediately, and John let out a disappointed whine. 

“How long do your heats last?” Sherlock asked, still resting on John.

“Three days.” John answered, already feeling the need to get Sherlock back inside him. 

Sherlock licked his lips nervously.

“Mycroft will have found us by then. I wonder if Moriarty has fled, if he assumes I’ve been driven mad then there would be no need. Of course, his actions are all the proof that I need. Which means that we can investigate the Powers case before school starts. I had a quick look through the file earlier - ”

 _”Sherlock!”_ John cried out, his heat flaring. He could feel his arse clenching involuntarily, he wriggled his hips trying to get closer to Sherlock’s cock.

“Oh, yes. Sorry, John.” Sherlock kissed John softly on the temple, the action strangely intimate as John’s body flooded with need. With his eyes still softened with affection, Sherlock pushed himself off John. Then he rolled John onto his stomach, pulled him onto his hands and knees and pushed his cock back inside him.

* * *

By the time John’s heat had finished it felt very strange to not have Sherlock inside him. He had become so used to the constant push and slide of Sherlock’s skin against his that he was almost sad that it was over. Except that now they could do this every night for the rest of their lives. The idea made John smile.

Their clothes were filthy and it felt odd to get dressed after having spent so long naked. The door was ominously unlocked when Sherlock tried it. The thought that someone had stood outside, and listened as they had sex made John feel a little sick.

Pushing the door open revealed a dimly lit stairwell that looked familiar. 

“Well, they didn’t take us far.” Sherlock commented.

“We were in the cellar below our hall, all this time?” John asked, surprised; but Sherlock just hummed and began to climb the stairs. He was six steps up before he stopped and slowly descended. He held out his hand for John to take.

“Come on, let’s see who is waiting for us.”

John took his hand. It felt reassuring as Sherlock’s long fingers held onto him and he was gently pulled along.

“Well, its got to be either Mycroft or Moriarty. Probably Mycroft, but we can still hope.” Sherlock continued.

It turned out to be Mycroft and Lestrade, sitting side by side on Sherlock’s bed.

* * *

“So then, when your brother said you were missing, I told him about your theories about Moriarty and we both came down to check that everything was alright. Well, obviously it took awhile to find you, but you were, er, quite loud, so it wasn’t that bad. I was all for going in and breaking things up, but -”

Lestrade paused as Mycroft gave a discreet cough.

“Yes, well,” Lestrade continued, eyeing John and Sherlock dubiously. “It’s been all happening here. Moriarty and Moran have done a bunk. The Head was in an uproar about having an omega study alone here. Good thing your brother was here, sorted everything out. Somehow calmed the old man down, and now neither of you are expelled.”

John caught the sneer beginning to form on Sherlock’s face at the thought of Mycroft’s help. 

“Well..That’s good. I’d better pack my things.” John intervened.

“Pack? No, you don’t understand. You can stay.” Lestrade said.

“He is packing to move into my omega room.” Sherlock said darkly.

“Oh, oh yes. Rather.” Lestrade muttered, looking down at his feet in embarrassment. 

As John left the room he wondered if that was how all the students would treat him now that they knew he was an omega.

* * *

“Watson!”

John looked up as he trudged towards the science block. It was the first morning back and he felt that every student was looking at him. He wished Sherlock had come with him to class, but he’d been up late pondering the Powers case, and John hadn’t been able to rouse him this morning. 

Stamford was running towards him.

“I say, Watson!” 

John felt like running away. He really didn’t want to face Stamford right now, but he stood and waited patiently for Stamford to catch up to him. As soon as they were side by side he could see Stamford’s eyes widen in realisation.

“So it’s true, that you’re an omega?”

John nodded curtly.

“Holmes’ omega?”

John nodded again.

“Do you still want to be friends?”

John frowned. He should be the one asking that. 

“It’s just, I know I haven’t exactly been respectful. I swear I would have been, and I will be. We don’t have to hang out if Holmes disapproves. And we don’t have to go drinking again, but, you know, I do want to be friends.” Stamford pleaded. 

John looked at him in confusion. He thought he had understood everything about alpha-omega relationships, but since Sherlock and he had bonded he had been continually surprised. Stamford didn’t seem to care that he was an omega, he just wanted to still be friends. John grinned at him. 

“Actually, Sherlock approves of our Friday night drinks. He says he has no desire to engage in our petty gossip which is invariably wrong anyway.” 

Stamford grinned back at him.

“Oh well, in that case, shall we get to class?”

They turned, and carried on walking to the science block. Stamford gently lulling John with news about what he had done on his holiday, and which homework he had had difficulty with. It felt incredibly normal, despite the occasional odd looks people gave him.

He was glad that Sherlock hadn’t come with him this morning. He was glad that he had faced his fears by himself, safe in the knowledge that, if it had all been too horrendous, Sherlock would always be there for him. It was a good feeling, and felt, John suspected, just a little like love.


End file.
